Waving Bye, Bye, Bye to Sanity
by Fellowshipper
Summary: Jubilee and Paige win tickets to an N'Sync concert. Unfortunately, their two companions aren't going down without a fight.
1. Beginning of the End

**Title:** Waving Bye, Bye, Bye to Sanity

**Notes:** In honor of N'Sync's upcoming new release - which, by the way, you'd be better off trading in for Systematic's debut. It's awesome. - I present to you my first and last story to ever have anything at all to do with N'Sync. I hope.

**Continuance:** ...None. No, really, I mean that. I just wanted to use certain characters, so there ya go. 

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Marvel, N'Sync, Britney Spears, or anything else besides a really horrible digital camera. Oh, and Coke made me twenty-five bucks richer today thanks to their "Pop the Top" game, so that and the camera is all anyone will get if they bother suing me. 

******

Throughout history, the kitchen has been regarded as the most involved room in the house, where families gather around a table and actually treat each other like family. It was the one room that seemed to always have the ability to bring others close. 

Nowhere on Earth could that belief be both proved and disproved in the course of five minutes. Nowhere, that is, except Xavier's Institute for Higher Learning, where the true test of one's bravery was not by facing Magneto or Apocalypse, but rather by surviving breakfast. 

And that, brave journeyer, is where our story begins. 

What appeared to be every person ever associated with the X-family, but was instead the whole of the X-Men team, sat around the kitchen table. If one would listen closely, they would hear a wide array of accents ranging from southern to pure Cajun to British to the occasional New York or Boston dialects. The worst part of all was that everyone insisted on talking at once and carrying fifty different conversations at the same time. Rogue and Gambit sat talking about whatever it was they talked about alone, Betsy and Warren were making meaningless, cold chit-chat with one another, and Jean and Scott stood at the counter, Scott drinking coffee and going over a trip he and his wife would be taking to Jean's parents' home. Storm, Bishop, and Wolverine all ate in silence, but that quietness was more than made up for by the trio at the end of the table, namely Beast, Bobby, and Sam, who had chosen the mansion as a good spot to hide after an incident involving Cable, a power shortage, and a quart of sour milk. So far, no one had managed to get him to explain just what that incident was. 

"Man attacked by squirrel, rescued by nearby school janitor wielding a weed eater." Bobby winced. "Harsh." Nonetheless, he still looked up to see a reaction. Sam shook his head. 

"Too gruesome for breakfast. Find somethin' else." 

Bobby appeared mildly disappointed but obliged anyway. It had become a morning ritual around the breakfast table in the mansion, during which Bobby would scan the paper for the most bizarre story headlines he could find. It served to provide a bit of comedic relief to a place that sorely needed it. 

The rustling of the paper was heard again, then Bobby squealed. Loudly. Hank nearly dumped his coffee on himself. Sam leaned over and looked for the source of his friend's excitement, then scrunched his nose up in distaste. 

"N'Sync's comin' to MSG. Yay." 

"Really?" Jean brightened and quickly forgot about her conversation with Scott. "I love them!" 

Scott stared incredulously at his wife. "Honey, aren't they a little young for you?" 

Jean's mouth dropped open in surprise, but she wasn't given a chance to reply before Gambit added his two cents - which, when Gambit spoke, equated to about a dollar fifty-seven. 

"Well, y'know what dey say, Scottie. Older women do make de best lovers." Rogue stomped on his foot. "Or so I been told." 

Jean's eyebrows shot up even more as her arms folded over her chest. "Is that so?" 

Scott, sensing things were about to take a turn for the worse, set his coffee mug in the sink and gave a nervous smile. "I just remembered . . . I need to go fix something in the car. I think the engine's missing or something like that." 

He didn't give Jean the opportunity to stop him before he bolted from the kitchen and out the door. Jean turned narrow green eyes to her loudmouthed teammate, tapping her foot impatiently against the floor. Remy suddenly thought back to one of the many history lessons he had been taught while in the Thieves Guild, and he suddenly knew what most of Britain must have felt like after France bailed out in the beginning of WWII. 

And looking around, Remy couldn't see that anyone was going to bail _him_ out, so he cleared his throat and pushed his bowl of cereal away. 

"I . . . uh . . . t'ink I'm gonna go help Scott wit de car." 

"You do that." Jean watched him as he left, wishing looks really could kill; had that been the case, Remy would have been little more than a mass of smouldering bones on the ground. "Can you believe those two?" She asked through clenched teeth. Rogue shook her head in response. 

Deciding it best to not even think of getting involved in the brewing war, Sam turned his attention to Bobby. "So what, do you like N'Sync?" 

"Nope." Bobby pointed to the paper and developed a dreamy look. "But Britney Spears is touring with them." 

"Ain't she a li'l young for you?" 

"Hey, if she's gonna flaunt it, I'm gonna look," Bobby defended himself stubbornly, tapping his finger against the newspaper, right on Justin Timberlake's head. "I'd pay for a ticket just to go see her." 

"Yoah a sick, sad little man, Bobby," Sam shook his head as he walked to the sink, ducking when Bobby threw a snowball at him. 

Such was the experience of breakfast in the Xavier mansion. 

******

"Hey! Heads up! Comin' through! Whoops . . . sorry, dude!" 

Jubilation Lee, as Monet had once put it, was "the very reason why some parents should not reproduce." She was also Jubilee, the roller-blading terror that whizzed past others in a blur of red and yellow. 

"Jubilee, I've told ye not to skate in the house," Sean admonished without even looking up from the magazine he was reading while he passed through the main room. Jubilee, just having entered the doorway, smiled sheepishly. 

"Sorry, Irish. Hey, you seen Paige around?" 

"Prob'ly in her room where she always is." 

"Thanks!" 

"Dunnae mention it," Sean replied absently, waving a hand in the air behind him before disappearing around a corner. Jubilee, trying to get her skates off and run before Angelo caught up to her and tried to kill her after she nearly ran over him, succeeded and bounded the stairs in a frightening amount of energy. It was only a matter of seconds before she was standing outside the room she shared with Paige, cringing at the country music blaring behind the door. She didn't bother knocking before she pushed her way inside, immediately startled by how much louder the music became. 

"You are **not** playing LeAnn Rimes in my room, huh uh." She moved to the CD player and pushed stop, choking down the urge to hurl the CD out the window. Paige, who had been working on an English paper, looked up and removed her glasses. 

"It's my room, too, y'know." 

"And my room. I'm not listening to . . . that," she mocked a shudder as she pointed to the CD, easily sidestepping the pillow her roommate tossed at her head. "So I was outside 'blading and Angelo was scanning the radio for a good station, and this one said they're havin' a concert to see who gets tickets to go see N'Sync. Awesome, huh?" 

"Very," Paige muttered, sliding her glasses back up her nose and going back to her report. Jubilee gave a very weary, exasperated sigh. 

"Come _on_, Hayseed! It's at the garden, even! That's, like, the coolest place ever! Y'know, Scott and Jean took me there once for a Bruce Springsteen concert. Jean didn't wanna go so she took someone to share the torture." Jubilee rolled her eyes and flopped down on her bed, sending pillows and stuffed animals spilling into the floor. "You gotta be at least a little interested." 

"Says who?" 

"Me! And I know you like 'em, you just won't admit it." Paige looked up, annoyance creeping into her otherwise placid blue eyes. "I've seen that poster of Lance in your closet." 

"You little rat! What're you doin' in my closet?" She asked, urgency making her control slip and letting her accent come in a bit thicker than normal. 

Jubilee only grinned impishly and turned the radio on. As if on cue, the DJ started giving details on the contest, announcing that the tenth caller would win a family four-pack of tickets. The tone to begin the contest sounded. Jubilee and Paige stared at each other for several long seconds before they both jumped from their beds and made a mad dash to the phone, each scrambling to get there first. Paige, being the taller of the two and therefore having much longer legs, won the race and started dialing the number given, surprised when the line was clear and she received an answer. The bigger challenge than getting through was trying to listen to the man on the other line and keep Jubilee from getting to her. 

"What's he saying, huh? Paige! Paige, what's he talkin' about?" 

"Shh!" Paige scolded, lightly but forcefully pushing Jubilee away. The younger girl came right back again. 

Jubilee pouted when Paige refused to speak to her, then clamped a hand over her mouth when she heard her roommate start giving out her address. Paige hung up the phone a minute later, then directed her attention to Jubilee. 

"Well?" 

A large grin split Paige's face. Jubilee squealed, grabbing onto Paige's shoulders and proceeding to jump around the room with her roommate. As she was walking down the hallway to her room, Monet looked curiously into the room to see the two girls screaming like the idiots she always suspected they were, rolled her eyes, and went on her way. 

******

"Carl's Roadkill Café, you kill 'em, we grill 'em." 

"Charles wouldn't be happy if he knew you were answering the school phones that way," Betsy mused, carefully hiding a grin. Bobby looked back to where she sat at the table, shrugged, and continued with the conversation. 

"Oh, hi, Paige. Yeah, he's here, hold on." He covered the mouthpiece, and for a moment Betsy was under the assumption he was leaving. She cringed when he screamed as loudly as was humanly possible. "Sam! Phone!" 

"Got it!" 

Bobby hung the phone up and bowed gracefully before Betsy, then spun on his heel and headed into the rec room with his can of Pepsi. 

Also seated in the room were Logan and Sam, both firmly ensconced on the couch and recliner respectively, the television in front of them playing a taped game between Green Bay and Minnesota. Bobby blinked. 

"Isn't it a little late for football?" 

"Mmm?" Logan asked around a mouthful of pretzels. 

"It's June." 

"Oh." 

Seeing that as the end of the conversation, Bobby sighed and dropped down onto the unoccupied end of the couch. Across the room, Sam held the phone away from his ear, grimacing the entire time. "Please stop screamin', Paige, Ah'm right here an' Ah can hear just fine. Uh huh. Uh huh. Yeah, so? Ah thought you didn't like them? Oh. Okay. That's nice. When is it? That soon? Well, have fun. An' how'd ya know to call here?" 

Bobby cast a lazy glance sideways to the younger man, snickering when he watched his face drain of color. 

"Oh. Well, if ya talk to him again, tell him Ah'm really sorry about the milk. It was just a joke. So when is it again? Oh. Okay. Have fun. Okay. Bye." Wolverine glanced cautiously to his right when he noticed Sam holding the phone out. "Jubilee wants to talk to ya." His tone was almost apologetic. Logan muttered gruffly under his breath. 

He didn't have the chance to hang up until almost an hour later. 

Still seated on Jubilee's bed in the room they shared, Paige had watched as her friend's expression and mood both steadily went from excited happiness to grim determination. Something told her that this meant trouble. 

"We have a problem. Two of 'em, actually." 

"Being...?" 

"Wolvie and your inbred hick of a brother." 

Paige's mouth dropped open. "He is not inbred!" 

"Whatever. Anyway, Wolvie doesn't like the idea of the two of us going by ourselves." Her eyes narrowed sharply. "And apparently, you didn't tell Kentucky we were going by ourselves, either." 

Paige seemed not to be bothered in the least. "That's 'cause I knew he'd get mad." She looked down at her beaten hiking boots. "So we'll go anyway and sell the other two tickets. They'll never know." 

Jubilee blinked. And again. "It's Wolvie. He'll know." 

Paige frowned. "Okay, so why don't we just find a couple people to go with?" 

"They have to be personally approved." 

"Oh for..." Paige rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Okay, fine. Now what?" 

"Now we fight back. We make some calls and a few visits, and we'll pro'lly find someone to go with. Meet back here in a couple hours and we'll see what we have." Paige nodded and rose to her feet, stopped by the serious look on the younger girl's face. "And use any force necessary."


	2. Balancing Act

Two and a half hours later, both girls were ready to assume new identities and go anyway. 

They were once again sprawled atop Jubilee's bed. Jubilee herself was lazily plucking at pieces of fuzz on her blanket, while Paige appeared to be trying to smother herself. 

"So what'd you find out?" 

Paige gave a barely audible groan and lifted her head off the pillow just enough to speak. "Emma laughed at me, Sean said he'd think about it, and Jean volunteered herself and Cyclops."

Jubilee choked back a laugh. "No way am I going to another concert with those two again." She looked back at Paige. "What about Yorkshire?" 

Paige dropped her head back onto the pillow. "He kicked me out of his room when I asked."

Jubilee sighed in disappointment. "Yeah, Ange had pretty much the same reaction. I mean, the way these guys are acting, you'd think we were asking for their first born! Not that I'd really want Ange's first born, since it'd probably have no lungs 'cause of all that cigarette smoke," she continued rambling as an afterthought. "Anyway, Rogue said she'd go, but she had to leave on a mission with the Cajun soon. Personally, I think they're just goin' on vacation and blew me off." 

"Bobby said he'd go." 

"He just wants to see bimbo Spears. 'Sides, I don't think he'd meet the approval committee's standards." 

Paige gave another groan. 

"So what we're facing here is a night out with Scott and Jean Summers? Just shoot me now." 

"Unless . . ." 

"Unless what?" 

Paige grinned evilly and reached for the phone resting on the bedside table, immediately stopping once her hand rested on it. The grin widened. "I have a better idea. Let's go find the video link station." 

Realization dawned on Jubilee's face, followed closely by a wicked smile. 

******

All the training in the world could do nothing for Rogue's balance. 

She teetered uneasily down the hallway, barely able to see where she was going thanks to the mountain of books cradled in her arms. The fear of upsetting the stack was enough to keep her grounded and out of the air. Even though she laughingly entertained the thought of being the first X-Man ever to be killed by literacy, she was exceedingly proud of her new treasures. After Bastion's seizure of everything that wasn't nailed down in the mansion, and some that were, she had grown distraught at the thought that all of her overblown, trashy romance novels were lost to her forever. 

That was when Jean showed her the miracle of internet shopping. 

After ordering a frightening amount of books, including a large back order of out of print books due to lack of readers, she headed to the nearby Barnes and Noble to claim her order. It had cost her a small fortune, but they had been kind enough to throw in a free bookmark as a thank-you gesture. 

Now she simply had to get to her room without tripping and drowning in the books. _They'd never find the body_, she mused. She breathed a quiet sigh of relief when she could see the end of the hallway that branched into two other hallways leading to the male and female dorms. 

Then she saw the light flashing in the corner of her eye. 

"Oh boy," she muttered, carefully making her way into the room. The flashing light was a signal to show someone was on the other end, and also served as a precautionary method of letting the receiving team know it wasn't a dire emergency. It was for that very reason Rogue considered going on to her room as if she saw nothing. She groaned and squashed the urge to run. 

"Who is it?" 

"Incoming message from Massachusetts, United States," replied an oddly stilted robotic voice that reminded Rogue vaguely of Bishop with a falsetto. 

"One of the kids." Her mind raced with possible reasons why they would be using the video link. Maybe it was a prank. For the supposed next generation of superheroes, they all seemed to enjoy prank calling the older teams. She still laughed every time she remembered Kitty's tear-streaked face as she laughed and related her favorite prank story. As the story went, one or all of the students had talked Jono into using the phone Forge had long ago crafted for him that would convert his telepathic speech into sound waves able to be carried over phone lines. The result was a call made to Excalibur, during which Jono flawlessly mimicked Pete Wisdom's sleepy, angry, and accented voice. That in turn sent the older man into a paranoid frenzy in which he promised revenge on Emma Frost and her spandex-wearing self for probably putting her student up to it in the first place. 

"Call," Rogue reminded herself, hitting the large blue button and waiting patiently for the screen to come into focus. She saw Jubilee and Paige staring back at her, and a cold dread clutched her heart. They really _were_ going to take her up on her offer of going to the concert!

"Hello, and welcome. I'm Dr. Clayton Forrester, and soon you will all bow down before me." Paige stared at Jubilee, who simply shrugged. "It's got the same screen setup." Paige shook her head and looked back at the screen. 

"Sorry. We had a Mystery Science Theater marathon last night." 

"Three thousand!" Jubilee chimed in. She waited for a reply that wasn't given. "Rogue? Is that you under there?" The slight bobbing of the top of a white-streaked head was the only indication she had been heard. "Cool. So, are Wolvie and Sam around anywhere?" 

For a moment, Rogue wondered why Jubilee hadn't asked about the books. Then she remembered the girl was part of the team at one time, so seeing what appeared to be a walking stack of books was probably no surprise. "Uh...yeah. Hold on." Unwilling to walk around the mansion to find them, she turned to face the open doorway. "Logan! Sam! Ya got a call!" 

Jubilee cringed at the loud voice blaring over the speakers. "Geez. They have tracking devices all over the place there. You'd think they'd actually use 'em now and then." She was quickly silenced by Paige jabbing her elbow into her side. Several minutes later, their targets entered their line of vision, neither looking particularly thrilled to be there. They looked even less thrilled with the looks on the two girls' faces. 

"Can . . ." Sam trailed off when he heard a loud shriek, multiple thuds, and Bobby's frantic, apologetic voice in the hallway, suspiciously enough in the direction Rogue had been heading. "Can we help you?" 

"Actually, yeah," Paige agreed with a completely straight face. Jubilee wasn't faring so well. "See, we couldn't find anyone to go with us. The ones who_ were_ willing probably wouldn't meet your. . .uh. . .expectations, so we're proposing a new idea." 

"Not going?" Sam asked hopefully. Jubilee faked a laugh for a split second before letting her face go entirely serious.

"Funny. Actually, seeing as how you two are so eager to see that we're going with body guards..." 

"No," Logan interrupted, too aware of where Jubilee was going with that line of thought. 

"Please?" 

"No." 

Jubilee sighed. "Even after you promised to take me to the mall last Saturday? You owe me." 

Logan's jaw dropped faintly. "Somethin' came up, darlin'. I told ya I'd..." 

"Make it up to me? I know. Here's your chance." 

Paige nodded enthusiastically. "And Sam, it's a great chance to make up for missing my birthday. I mean, turning eighteen is a really big deal." 

Sam's already dumbfounded expression deepened to comical proportions. "Ah thought your birthday was this comin' Friday." 

"Last Friday," Jubilee corrected, shaking her head sadly. "Paige was heartbroken that her older bro didn't even send her a card or call or anything. She sat by the phone for two days, Kentucky. It was awful. You should be ashamed of yourself." 

Sam stammered wordlessly for several moments, running a helpless hand through his messy blond hair. "Oh. Well, uh...Ah'm real sorry, Paige. Ah just thought..." 

"...Of everything but her birthday, yup." Paige tried to force her smile to remain on her face even though she could sense Jubilee kicking into overdrive with her acting. "She looked like M in one of her trances! Wouldn't eat or sleep or nothin.' She finally snapped out of it one day, which was pretty good, since I was gonna get Sparky to do a striptease for her and knock her out of it." 

"She's embellishing a little bit," Paige noted through clenched teeth, smile as fake and shallow as the best in a beauty pageant. Jubilee seemed oblivious to her friend's discomfort. 

"He was more than willing, too. Even showed me this little leopard print thong he was gonna wear, which was really more than I needed to see." 

"Jubilee, stop it!" Paige ordered sharply, cheeks burning a deep crimson. Jubilee suddenly looked thoughtful. 

"I like that shade of red. You mind if I take a picture? I think I wanna paint our room that color." She smirked just enough for her roommate to see. "Jono showed me the boxers he could wear in place of the thong. They were that color, too." 

"Ah'm gonna kill you, Lee," Paige warned, a menacing threat coupled with the psychotic and panicked grin on her face. "An' it's gonna hurt." 

"Is there a point to this?" Logan demanded impatiently. Both girls spun around to face the screen, having gotten so caught up in their debate they forgot they still had a goal in mind. Seeing that Paige was still fuming, Jubilee answered for her. 

"We want imbursement for our suffering." 

"It's reimbursement," Paige corrected, teeth still gritted tightly together. Jubilee shrugged. 

"Yeah, what she said. So how about it?" 

Sam and Logan shared a glance, looked to the screen, back to one another, and Sam could almost swear he saw the older man's left eye twitch spasmodically. 


	3. Escape!

**Notes:** I've got a bunch of 'em. 

First, I'd like to thank the academy for letting me trample all the little people . . . oh, wait. Scratch that. Lame humor here, folks, just smile and nod. Seriously, though, I'd like to thank everyone who's reviewed so far. You guys _so_ reek of awesomeness.

Second, to "Rogue Girl" - you asked me a question and didn't leave any way to contact you, so here goes. You had the other two characters right, but "Sparky" is a nickname Jubilee gave to Chamber, though he's not exactly thrilled with it. 

Third, I know Jubilee's ... whatever in here isn't technically a glowstick, but I couldn't think of what the rods with the plastic antennae-things on the end are actually called. Sorry. 

Fourth, I have never attempted and don't (really) condone violence on boybands. But if by any chance you happen to get close enough to take one out, do the world a favor and nail Justin, and let him know that he's white and should accept it and get on with his life. Then go buy the Disturbed CD and repeat to yourself that you will not be tainted by N'Sync. Thank you. That is all. 

******

"This is it, guys! We're in MSG!" Jubilee bounced excitedly on her heels, swinging around and narrowly missing thwapping Logan in the head with her purse. "Whoops. Sorry, Wolvie. So whaddya think?" 

Sam looked around the building, not altogether impressed. "Well, it's...big." 

Jubilee rolled her eyes. "Of course you'd think it's big. The biggest thing in Cumberland is the post office, right?" 

"Nah. The dog pound was bigger," Sam corrected absentmindedly, jumping when Paige punched him in the arm. 

"Don't encourage her." 

"Ah'm not." 

"Yes, you were." 

"Ah was not!" 

"Were."

"Not."

"Were!"

"Not!"

"Tell me again who's older?" Logan muttered so that Jubilee could hear. She giggled and began rummaging through her purse for something. With her distracted, he turned his attention back to the brewing fight. 

"Oh, an' while we're at it, Ah called Momma an' ya wanna know what she told me? Your birthday is **this** Friday, just like Ah said it was!" 

Paige grinned innocently. "Whoops. These things slip my mind sometimes." 

"Uh huh. Well, that's good, though, 'cause Ah didn't get ya anything." 

Paige's grin gave way to a slacking jaw. "Sam!" 

He dodged her hand when she moved to smack his arm again. "Would you stop that? Lord, girl, I didn't do anything!"

"That's why I'm mad! Sam, I'm turning eighteen! That's gotta count for something." 

"Ya wanna know what Ah got when Ah turned eighteen? A card from Grandma with a dollar in it and someone's name scratched out an' mine wrote in. You get to go to a concert. Stop complaining." 

"Found it!" Jubilee cried, producing a glowstick from her bag and hitting the on button. "I got it when I came here with Jean and Scott. Cool, huh?" 

"Yeah," Logan agreed halfheartedly, watching as Paige pulled a digital camera from her own purse, even while standing in front of the sign that stated in big, bold letters that no recording devices were allowed into the actual show. "Can't you read?" 

"Pretty well. But Bobby showed up yesterday and offered me ten bucks if I got some pictures of Britney Spears for him. I get twenty if they're good shots." 

Sam blinked. "We've barely even got through the gates and you're already showin' us that we're babysitting two smugglers. Great." 

"That's another thing, Sam," Paige started, dropping the camera into her purse and turning to face her older brother. "I'm going to legally be an adult in six days. Why do I need a babysitter?" 

"Don't start with me right now, Paige." 

"Stop talkin' to me like you're my father!" 

"Stop talkin' to me like you're my spoiled daughter, then!" Sam shouted back, saying a quiet thank you when Paige stormed off, Jubilee in tow. "Lord Almighty, she didn't used to be that way. What happened?" 

Logan looked over at the younger man, and the answer came to them both at once. 

"Emma." 

Several moments of silence passed before they realized the girls weren't coming back. 

"We'd better go find 'em before they kidnap one of those guys." 

Much as he wanted to argue, Sam saw the logic in Logan's statement, so off they went in search of their charges. To their surprise, the found them both already at their seats. 

"Maybe they're not gonna be that bad." Sam tried to sound confident besides his skeptical expression. 

"The group or the girls?" 

Sam looked around the rapidly-filling arena, then to the stage where a giant, multi-colored, blinking N'Sync sign was being lowered from the ceiling. He gulped. "Ah...don't know." 

Logan nodded knowingly, his face a mask of grim certainty. 

******

An hour and a half later, both were ready to run for the hills. Logan's problem was only that he didn't like being cooped up with so many screaming teenage girls. It made him nervous. Sam, on the other hand, was ready to turn homicidal. The screaming girls didn't bother him, and it wasn't even so much the group itself. After all, he had many younger siblings and had survived the New Kids On The Block invasion several years earlier. 

They, however, were nothing like this. 

He wasn't sure if it was the clothes - bright, garish costumes that appeared to be fashioned from British regular uniforms last seen in the American Revolution. Maybe it was the lights, or even the way their front row seats gave them a perfect view of how Lance's hair had been spiked to the point it could very nearly be a weapon. There was something about the group that could turn an otherwise calm, intelligent girl such as Paige into one of the screaming bottle-blonde zombies around her. What confused him more than that was why Jubilee was screaming for them when he had always known her to be a diehard Offspring and Blink fan. Even though he didn't like them either, he could have tolerated them. At least there, every guy he saw didn't look as though he'd just been marched into a concentration camp. 

Suddenly, Sam found himself bitterly wondering why the girls hadn't won tickets to see the Dave Matthews Band, or better, Garth Brooks. Or Faith Hill. Or - dare he hope? - Shania Twain. 

Logan looked to his right to see Sam staring up at the ceiling, eyes glazed over and a dopey grin on his face. "You okay?" He asked in genuine concern, slapping the younger man on the arm. 

It wasn't N'Sync, it was Shania Twain on stage! Dancing! Singing and...morphing into Chris? Sam blinked as he was knocked from his daydream, desperately clinging to the fading remnants. 

"Just worried about ya. For a minute there, I thought ya were gonna turn into one o' them." He pointed to their wards, both of whom had been turned into screaming, starstruck girls, something neither normally was. It had to be something with the group itself. Maybe they were really hypnotists out to conquer the world. They must be stopped. 

"They must be stopped!" Sam echoed his thoughts aloud, eyes wide and maniacal. "They're gonna take over the world an' turn us all into their zombie slaves!" 

Logan huffed. "And ta think...we thought Magneto and Sentinels were the enemy all this time. Why didn't we see it was a boy band?" 

Sam, already driven too far, grabbed Jubilee's glowstick and held onto it by the plastic glowing ends, watching and waiting as Justin Timberlake walked ever closer to his doom. 

"Guess what? It's gonna be -" 

Unfortunately, a glowstick to the forehead prevented him from finishing his part of the song. Time seemed to slow, and eventually seemed to stop completely. So did the music and the screaming. When the unconscious teen idol fell to the ground, however, all hell broke loose. The rest of the group made a mad dash for the backstage area as many angry, anti-pop boyfriends in the crowd who happened to be dragged to the concert saw the attack as the opening salvo of a full scale war. They stormed the stage, destroying the props and speakers. The blinking N'Sync sign fizzled and fell to the ground with a deafening thud. 

"Get him!" Logan ordered, pointing to Justin's prone form being carried out by several teenage girls. Sam waded through the chaotic mess stampeding for any exit they could find and yanked the boy from their grasp, then looked back at Logan for guidance. 

"Now what?" 

"Run!" 

And so, Sam ran as quickly as his legs could carry him to an exit. 

******

"Ah can't believe this. You killed him!" 

Jubilee started to comment on her friend's thickening accent, then wisely decided against it. 

"Ah didn't kill him." Sam turned around in the passenger's seat and stared uneasily at the boy. "Did Ah?" 

"Yknow, this is just great, Sam. It was bad enough when Ah had to be called the little sister of 'Cannonball, X-Man,' but now it's 'Cannonball, X-Man, murderer of Justin Timberlake and man personally responsible for the Madison Square Garden riot two-thousand!" 

"Uh...two-thousand and one." 

"Shut up!" 

"Ah didn't kill 'im!" Sam wailed, near tears. Having heard more than enough, Logan finally deigned to speak. 

"You _did _remember to get that stick thing, right?" 

Sam shook his head. Paige snorted. 

"Ya left the murder weapon? What kinda murderer are you?" 

"Ah didn't kill him!" 

"They'll never find it in that mess anyway," Jubilee commented, pushing the still KO'ed Justin off her shoulder. 

"Hey, Ah watch 'Law And Order'! They'll find ya!" 

"Ah wasn't the only one with a motive!" Sam snapped back angrily, blue eyes flaring with that same anger. 

"So now it's 'Cannonball, X-Man, convicted homicidal maniac!'"

Logan, finally seeing an opening, pushed the pedal to the floor and made it safely out of the parking garage. There was a fight brewing in the car, Aerosmith was playing on the radio, Cyclops was no where in sight, and Emma Frost was going to want his and Sam's heads mounted on her wall. Did life get much better? 


	4. Headaches

The last thing Sam wanted to see upon entering the mansion was Scott Summers sitting on the couch, stared slack-jawwed at the television in front of him. After driving the girls back to the academy and dropping them off, he and Logan had returned silently to Westchester, where Logan was currently dragging the still-unconscious Justin into the med lab for a quick checkup before hopefully mindwiping him and sending him on his merry way. 

That meant he, being the truthful, honest young man that he was, would eventually be trapped in a corner like a timid mouse. 

"I'm surprised you made it out of there alive," Scott started, gesturing wildly to the T.V. Sam cautiously walked over to stand behind the couch, feeling beads of sweat form on his forehead as the news anchor stood in front of a pile of ... something ... that was currently in flames.

"Yes, Sandra, that's right. No word yet on the assailant who instigated the riot, but the preliminary investigations already being conducted point to this as being the initial weapon used." The camera panned around to show one of New York's finest holding a clear plastic bag, in which rested a plastic thing that looked like a flashlight with plastic antennae sprouting from the ends. 

Scott scratched his eyebrow. "Jubilee got one of those things at the Bruce Springsteen concert." 

Sam coughed nervously. 

The camera swung back around to focus on the reporter. She clutched her microphone to her chest as a group of disgruntled teenage girls ran by, all carrying their concert signs. The last one in the group moved back into camera range and pulled the microphone closer to her. 

"We want Justin back! Whoever took him won't get away with this!" 

The other girls nodded their agreement before leading her to the burning tower in the background. The reporter looked back at the camera, obviously a little harried. "No word yet on where group member Justin Timberlake is, either. We'll update you if we learn anything."

"Thank you, Jessica," replied a perky blonde sitting behind a desk, chipper voice clashing with her somber expression. "We go now to inside the arena for a special meeting called by Britney Spears, who opened tonight's show without injury." 

Sam gulped and clutched the back of the couch tightly. Bobby sauntered in, making no move whatsoever to keep his eyes from widening when the object of his longtime affections came onto the screen. He made his wish to hear her speak known when he shot the Glare o' Death at Scott for daring to open his mouth. 

"Shh! The Goddess speaks!" 

"Goddess? Bobby, she's a kid." 

"She's an adult, thank you," Bobby corrected, taking a bite from his turkey sandwich and staring in dough-eyed wonder at the television. There stood Britney, still in the outfit she wore during her performance, surrounded by various camera crews. 

"All I can say," she started, sniffling loudly, "is that whoever could, you know, do such a thing, is really, really low. Really low. Justin, if you can hear me right now, don't worry! We'll ... um ... do everything we can to find you, y'know. I miss you!" She sniffled again. "And we _will_ find whoever could, like, do such a thing, too!"

As reporters began firing off question after question at her, Bobby gave a dazed smile and leaned back against the couch cushions. "Or maybe he's lost forever. And then you'll be mine, Britney. All mine!" 

Scott blinked behind his visor. 

Sam continued sweating. 

"Sam," Scott started, turning around in his spot. Sam jumped and bumped into Logan, who was just coming out of the hallway that led downstairs to the medlab. 

"Ah didn't do it!" He shrieked wildly, eyes wide and terrified like those of a deer in headlights. "Ah didn't mean t'kill 'im, sir, Ah swear!" 

"With the way you crack under pressure, I hope you never get caught by some government cronie," Logan grumbled under his breath, glaring balefully at Sam. Sam, however, didn't notice. 

Scott's brow creased as he tried to figure out what he'd done wrong. "I...uh, I was just going to ask if you've ever seen Cast Away. I stopped by Blockbuster on the way home and rented it. Just thought you might want to watch it, that's all." 

"I got 'im in there, but Beast is at some convention with Chuck," Logan whispered to the younger man.

Sam's eyes, if possible, widened even more. "So that means..." 

Logan nodded, a slow, evil grin forming on his face. "Yup. And she wants ta talk to ya." 

"Great." He looked back at Scott and forced a smile he by no means felt. "Thanks, but Ah've um...got some stuff Ah need t'go take care of. Maybe later, though." 

Scott nodded warily and reached for the remote, drawing back in surprise when Bobby smacked his hand away. 

"No! She's still talking!" 

******

Standing in the doorway of the medlab, Sam wondered if there was any possible way he might be able to live to see thirty. Or even twenty-five. That would be nice. 

"Ah killed 'im, didn't Ah?" 

"You panic too much, Guthrie. You and your cow-tipping self need to go on a vacation." 

Cecilia Reyes. M.D. Hopeless cynic. 

And eternal tormenter of one innocent, simple country boy. 

"Ah've never tipped a cow, actually." 

"There are other things to do in Kentucky?" 

"Plenty." 

"Like what? Practice aiming at unsuspecting entertainers?" She asked with a hatefulness in her voice she hoped would hide her humor at the entire situation. She cast a quick glance up at the young man as she moved to the side of the bed upon which Justin was resting, taking no small amount of satisfaction in seeing Sam freak out before her very eyes. 

"Ah wasn't aimin' at him! Ah just...Ah thought about throwin' it, an' Ah didn't even realize Ah did it until...well, everything fell apart." 

"You didn't mean to hit him?" Cecilia asked incredulously, eyebrows raised in disbelief. Sam shook his head, somehow maintaining the innocent look he'd kept in between bouts of temporary insanity and panic. "Bull. You hit this kid dead in the forehead. You have a good aim. Ever consider playing for the Mets?" 

Sam blushed but smiled a little, ducking his head and making long blond bangs fall into his face. "Huh uh. Maybe the Yankees." 

"No!" Cecilia almost shouted, brown eyes furious. "Absolutely not! You will play for the Mets, end of story." 

Sam blinked. 

"Sorry," she apologized somewhat sheepishly. "Mike Piazza's my boy. I gotta stick with him. Loyalty, stuff like that." She shrugged and finally took mercy on the uneasy young man in the doorway. "Look, the kid's fine, okay? He's gonna have a helluva headache when he comes to, but nothing Advil can't fix. Next time you feel like knocking out and kidnaping some insanely popular star, could you maybe sneak into John Cusack's dressing room? I'd love you forever." 

"You don't already?" Sam teased, that same childish grin appearing again. Cecilia took one look at him before turning her back. 

"No. And especially not after this trick! In fact, I don't know you, okay? Cops aren't very kind to accessories." 

"Ah didn't kill him." 

"If it helps you sleep at night..." 

"Ah didn't! You said so!" 

"I said no such thing. I said he'd have a headache." 

"Well, he can't very well have a headache if he's dead, now can he?" Sam shot back, arms folded smugly over his chest to show he was obviously proud with the way the argument was going. 

"Oh, you are a bright one." 

Their friendly bickering was brought to an abrupt halt when they noticed Scott standing in the hallway, staring at Sam with as much of a puzzled expression as he could manage with his eyes concealed. 

"Sam, did you kill Justin Timberlake?" 

******

**Notes:** This was originally supposed to be a stand-alone chapter, but eh. Things didn't work out that way. Basically, this is just a little throwaway scene that takes place outside the medlab between Bobby and several of his teammates. Just more stupid humor. Enjoy. Or at least keep the rotten tomatoes to yourself. :-)

  
  


**10:41 P.M.**

"Are you sure he's not a mutant? I mean, some of those outfits I've seen 'im wear in videos and stuff..." 

"Bobby, he's in a boyband. It's in their universal description to wear stupid outfits. And at least it isn't spandex." 

"What's wrong with spandex?" 

"..." 

"Jean?" 

"...You know, Scott said he rented Cast Away earlier. We should go watch it." 

  
  


**12:08 A.M.**

"Think we could hold him hostage?" 

"Bobby!" 

"Just for fun! You know, send ransom notes and everything." 

"We cannot hold anyone hostage, be it him or anyone else." 

"Aw, but Ororo, you gotta admit. It'd be fun." 

"Would it?" 

"Yeah! Maybe I could get Britney here..." 

"And she would slap you." 

"But then I could say I've been touched by the goddess." 

"..."

"I could." 

  
  


**12:53 A.M.**

"We could even make him do a concert before he leaves! You know, lights, smoke, the whole thing. Storm can do lights, Kurt can teleport a lot and make the smoke, and...why are you staring at me like that?" 

"You have something in your teeth." 

"Really?" 

"No. I'm just amazed you would actually consider any of this. I thought you were above this." 

"You've been wrong before. Look at Betsy." 

"...You know what? I'm going to walk away before I'm tempted to smother you in my wings." 

"At least it'd be a unique use of your powers." 

"And all for a good cause, too." 

"Then you could go sit in a jailcell with Sam somewhere." 

"No court on Earth would convict us. I think we'd be doing the world favors." 

"I value your friendship. Really, I do." 

  
  


**1:22 A.M.**

"Are you sure he isn't dead? I mean, he hasn't moved or anything." 

"He's probably bein' quiet so you don't try to talk to 'im! You've already scared the boy half ta death, with you out here talkin' about making him do a concert an' callin' 'im a mutant and everything." 

"Actually, Sam scared him to death. I'm just scaring him more. And what's wrong with the concert idea? We could make it a neighborhood event, you know? We could have a bake sell, and races - I bet the Professor would love that - and fireworks and a concert and ... what?" 

"Ah'm just wonderin' if you're really this dumb or if it's all an act." 

"Gee, thanks for providing such creative criticism for my idea." 

"Anytime, Drake." 

  
  


**1:30 A.M.**

"I think he's playing possum." 

"I think you're bothering him. Get out." 

"I'm not technically in the room, you know." 

"I don't care. He's my patient, you're interfering with his sleep." 

"Careful there. For a minute there, I almost thought you cared!" 

"Get out or I'm telling Hank who erased half his computer's C drive by installing Tomb Raider." 

"...How'd you know?" 

"I took a guess. Out. Now." 


	5. The Unoriginal Chapter Five

"I knew we should have gone with the girls instead of letting those two play chaperones." 

Jean gave her husband's hand a light, reassuring squeeze. "I don't know. It's given us a chance to see star talent up close and personal." She sighed quietly and peered into the medlab. "Granted, it'd be better if that star talent was actually awake." 

"Star talent? Jean, maybe ..." 

"Let me dream, Scott." 

Scott, as ordered, closed his mouth and let the woman dream. 

"Jean?" Cecilia called from inside the lab, voice muffled due to the fact she was at the time poring through several charts. 

"Hmm?" 

"I think he's coming around." 

"Maybe he'll give out autographs," Scott suggested, alarmed at the look Jean shot him. "What?" 

"We're not going to exploit his misfortune like that, Scott. Not when he's already suffered so much trauma on our part." The corners of her mouth lifted ever so slightly into a grin. "Besides, I want a t-shirt." 

As she walked into the room, she smiled reassuringly at the young man. 

That was until he spoke. 

"Brit? You dyed your hair." 

Jean stopped dead in her tracks and glanced self-consciously down at her chest, then at Cecilia. "Do they really look fake?" 

"And your hair got bigger." 

"You say that like it's a bad thing." 

"And your voice changed. You got taller." 

"Dios. I think we found a creature even more dense than Guthrie!" Cecilia exclaimed in obvious sincerity. "I can't wait to tell him. He'll be glad to hear it."

"Glad to hear what?" 

Cecilia looked to the doorway, then motioned for the young man to join them. "We were just discussing my patient, that's all." 

Justin looked at Sam. Sam looked at him. Both paled. 

"Oh mah Lord. Ah didn't kill 'im an' now he's gonna sue me!" 

"Kill me? Lance, dude, what's that thing on your chin?" 

Jean looked at Cecilia. Cecilia looked at her. Both women's eyebrows raised. 

Sam frowned and turned to look at the doctor. "Ah thought you said he was gonna be okay." 

"I thought he would be! Maybe he wears contacts or something and they got knocked out." 

"No, I don't," Justin corrected, never taking his eyes off Sam. "Seriously, dude. What's that thing on your face?" 

Finding himself suddenly ridiculed by a boy who himself barely looked old enough to shave, Sam self-consciously touched his chin and felt the stubble there in his meager attempt to grow a goatee. Jean, catching the move, touched his arm sympathetically. 

"Don't feel bad. He's already insulted me, too." 

"Who'd he get you confused with?" 

Jean flinched. "Britney Spears." 

Sam's brow furrowed. "But . . ." 

"I know. Believe me, I know." She paused suddenly, staring up at him with a curious expression. "One thing that's been bothering me, though. Um . . . That place had to have been crawling with security guards. How did you manage to get past all of them?" 

"Ah ran. Really, really fast." 

Jean arched a single eyebrow in disbelief. Sam shrugged. 

"Fear's a powerful motivator." 

******

It was really a horrible thought to think that the last four days of your adolescent experience were going to be spent in fear of being tracked down and arrested for aiding and abetting an attempted murderer. She had, after all, complete knowledge of where Sam was staying and where the police could find him. 

*Yer makin' too much outta this, Paige,* Jono reasoned, dropping down onto the couch beside her and handing her the history report she was proofreading for him. He'd already performed complete overhaul of it twice and modified it three times since then. He hoped she'd be happy enough with the results so he could turn it in the next morning. Something told him her current worried state would result in her nitpicking at his report and all the painstaking research he'd done for it. 

She turned the cover sheet and immediately slammed the report down on her lap. Jono winced; if she couldn't even make it past the first word, that probably wasn't a good sign. 

"It's only a matter of time before the police track me down." 

*They're not going to. I mean, from what you said, Sam didn't kill 'im.*

Paige shook her head sadly and handed the report back to her on-again, off-again boyfriend and rose to her feet. "I'm sorry, Jono. I'm just not really in the mood for this right now. I'll look at it again in a little bit, okay?" 

Jono nodded sullenly. He'd just check it himself and turn it in anyway. He was a talented writer, but he considered himself lucky if he spelled "cat" right every time. 

Paige walked across the room and settled down at the computer, signing on to first check a Buffy the Vampire Slayer message board she frequented, then her e-mail. She was halfway through her third piece of junkmail when she was given a reason to curse AOL for all its worth. An Instant Message popped up, and she sighed when she recognized the name. 

**IceIceBobby:** hey

She debated for a minute about answering him. Perhaps if she stayed very quiet and very still, he'd leave. She debated that in the same manner as she had so many times considered telling him his screenname was only meant to be a prank on Jubilee's part. Both ideas were lost. And besides, she reasoned, she needed someone unbiased to talk to. 

So, in the end, her only option was to answer. 

**PLG1883:** Hi.

**IceIceBobby:** Just wanted to say thanks for the pictures. 

**PLG1883:** You're welcome. 

**IceIceBobby:** That Britney. She's one hot lady, huh?

**PLG1883:** ...

**IceIceBobby:** Yeah. So how're you holding up? Your brother's going crazy over here. 

**PLG1883:** Not much better to be honest.

**IceIceBobby:** The kid's okay. The nsync guy, not your bro. 

**PLG1883:** So Sam didn't kill him? 

**IceIceBobby:** Nah. Threw him for a loop, and I don't think Jean's much of a fan anymore. Come to think of it, we had to forcefully keep Cecilia from shooting him up full of something when he saw her dreads and insisted on calling her Chris. Nevermind the different skin colors and everything. 

**PLG1883:** Must have been interesting. 

**IceIceBobby:** Oh, it wat.

**IceIceBobby:** Was. Sorry, can't type. 

**PLG1883:** It's okay. Did Sam ever come up with a decent reason why exactly he tried to take out a boyband guy? 

**IceIceBobby:** I don't think so. Wolverine said he was mumbling something in the car about boybands being evil and needing to be stopped or something like that. Poor guy's gone nuts.

**PLG1883:** Yeah, poor guy. 

**PLG1883: **Hey, does Cable have an email address? 

**IceIceBobby:** Yeah. Scott has it, I think. Why? 

**PLG1883:** I just need to tell him something, that's all. 

Paige leaned back in her chair, a slow grin creeping across her face. The day would not be a waste after all. 


	6. Tag

**Notes:** Welp, this is it, folks. We've reached the end of the line. (Yay!, cry the masses) Pretend like you're sad. Just humor me. Anyway, once again, I wanna thank everyone who's reviewed. As Edge would say (What, you don't know who Edge is? He's only probably the hottest Canadian south of the border! No, the OTHER border.), "you guys so _totally_ rule all!" And now, on with the story. 

******

"She's gonna kill me!" 

Bobby heard the distress call as he was walking past the medlab. It was without a doubt Justin's voice, and for a moment he pondered letting him deal with it. If he did, great. If he didn't ... well, at least Britney would be a bachelorette again. 

When he peeked through the window in the door and saw him flat against the wall and staring in wide-eyed horror as Cecilia aimed a needle at his head from several feet away, he figured he might do well to play the diplomat. 

He pushed the door open and walked inside, watching the doctor uneasily as she balanced the syringe in her right hand. 

"I never was very good at darts, so you might want to be very, very still for a minute." 

"Um . . ." 

"Get out, Drake." 

"You know, homicide is generally frowned upon in most places." 

"I'm a doctor. By the time I'm done, it won't look like homicide." She hefted the syringe up to eye level, sizing her target up. "Now, just don't move and you'll be fine." 

"Okay, call me curious, but, um . . . what're you doin'?" 

Cecilia glanced at Bobby. "I've had it. It's bad enough you stick me watching some smart-mouthed, spoiled brat, but this? This is too much. I can't handle it." 

"Can't handle what?" 

"This!" She shrieked, gesturing wildly to Justin and making Bobby take a step back when she narrowly missed plunging the syringe into his arm. "The boy is white! White as snow! He needs to accept it and get on with his life and stop insisting I call him 'my brother.'" 

Bobby's expression softened somewhat. "He just wants to make friends, Cece." 

"Don't call me that. And Drake, I hate to tell you this, but I'm black and **I** don't even call people 'brothers.' I tried telling him that, but no. He won't listen." She glared accusingly at him. "And my name is _not_ Chris. It is Cecilia, and I'm going to drill it into his skull, one needle point at a time!" 

Bobby backed up another step. Diplomacy really was overrated. 

"Oh." He headed for the door when Justin screamed again. It was a very loud, ear-splitting, Banshee-level scream. Bobby was frozen in terror at the mere sound, and for a moment he recalled a college reading of The Odyssey, specifically the part when the sirens would lure someone to his death with their enchanting song. 

"You can't leave me here! She's gonna kill me!" 

"And?" 

Justin blinked. Well, that hadn't been anticipated. "I have a girlfriend!" 

"I know." Bobby reached for the doorknob. 

"I have pictures! Good ones!" 

There was a hidden language between young males that, while most women didn't understand it, it was universal to their opposite gender. Bobby stopped in his tracks, looking cautiously over his shoulder. "How good?" 

Justin was beginning to sweat. Bobby considered letting him squirm a little more. This was fun. "Real good." 

That universal language promising dirty pictures, all for the cost of sedating one irate doctor, was beginning to lure him. If only he had a board to strap himself to to keep from getting pulled in . . . 

"All those fake nudes on the 'net and stuff? They're nothin', man." Justin was hysterical now, almost bursting into tears when a syringe flew at him and landed no more than half a foot from his left ear. 

Bobby could hear the sirens laughing at his gullible nature. But those pictures . . .

"Cecilia?" 

"What?" 

She looked up to see a very haggard-looking Jean standing in the doorway, narrowed green eyes fixed on the young man across the room. 

"I want to have a talk with our guest." 

Cecilia was a brave woman in her own right. She was not, however, suicidal, and so she stepped out of the way when a very angry Jean Grey-Summers stalked into the room, stopping when she was barely a foot away from Justin. 

"Goodbye, my friend." 

A light pink aura developed around Jean's head, and a split-second later, Justin fell to the floor like a sack of potatoes. 

Bobby raised his eyebrows. "Did you deep-six his mind or what?" 

"He'll be out for a while. I think I'm going to go sit him out on a street corner somewhere. I'm sure someone will pick him up." 

"I don't think that's very fair." 

"Oh, Bobby, I wouldn't just do that. I'd at least have the heart to put a sign around his neck. 'Free to good home.' Or maybe just 'free.'" 

  
  


And so it came to be that, more or less, the departure of Justin Timberlake was witnessed by the entirety of the Xavier household, with more than a few mixed emotions. Most of the mansion's inhabitants were indifferent. Bobby was bitter that he'd saved the young man's life and gained no pictures in return. Scott was impossibly confused, which was categorized as Scott's third emotion in Bobby's ever-popular Summers EQ Game. It had been going on under Scott's nose for quite some time now, all between Bobby, Jubilee, Gambit, Rogue on occasion, Warren, Logan, Hank, and even Jean now and then. The way it worked was that every Sunday morning, the participants would get together to bet on how many times Scott's three emotions - anger, bravery, and confusion - would surface and which would be predominant throughout the week. So far, Bobby was happy. He was already ahead of the competition, which was good since he _really_ wanted that collection of taped The New Red Green Show episodes Gambit had thrown into the pot this week. 

The thought of winning those almost canceled out the disappointment of no authentic Britney Spears nude pictures. 

Justin was just happy to be leaving. He vaguely recalled someone holding him hostage with a syringe, but it seemed like more of a bad dream than anything. The last thing he remembered was waking up to see some redhead staring at him expectantly. Aside from a splitting headache and several unanswered questions, he couldn't say his experience in his odd place was entirely a loss. He'd seen more beautiful women than he thought possible, not one person mocked him or his music to his face, and he didn't have to listen to Britney complain that her feet hurt. He loved her dearly, but for the life of him, he wished she'd buy some shoe cushioning pads and quit whining. 

He walked out the front door without looking back, watching the woman in front of him with a curious expression. She was black with long, flowing white hair and expressive blue eyes. An odd combination to say the least, but not at all a bad one. He'd have to see if she was dating anyone. 

Sam watched from the doorway with a mixture of pride - that having been attained by living through the weekend with only minor psychological damage - and fear - it was only a matter of time before his X-Force teammates put two and two together and tracked him down. His mind really was starting to kick into overdrive. Then something struck him. Really struck him. Right between the shoulder blades, in fact, and it hurt like hell. So as he lay on the ground gasping for air, four-letter words forming on his tongue that would still get him smacked in the mouth by his mother, one coherent thought came to him. That thought was, unfortunately, induced by Cable's voice behind him. 

"Tag." 

He rolled over onto his back, squinting up at the huge man and grinning cautiously. "Hi, sir." 

Scott sniffed. "Nate? You smell like . . ." He frowned, brow creasing above his visor. "Like spoiled milk." 

Sam unconsciously crabwalked backwards a little bit until he was halfway out the front door. 

"I'm well aware of that." He extended a hand to Sam, and for a moment the young man thought he was about to be slapped into oblivion. When he peeled an eye open and saw the hand was still there, he breathed a sigh of relief and accepted it, hefting himself to his feet and brushing himself off. "I saw that kid in the driveway when I was coming in. Did you do that?" 

Sam covered all his options in under ten seconds. Say yes and be yelled at. Say no and be called a liar and be yelled at some more. Don't answer and return to the milk incident debate. 

He nodded wordlessly. 

To his surprise, the corners of Cable's mouth lifted slightly. "Thought so. You have a good aim. You'll make a great leader one of these days." 

Sam brightened considerably. "Really?" 

Cable shrugged slightly. "Well, you would." He pulled his gun out from its place strapped to his back, resting the barrel against Sam's forehead. "It took me two days to get the milk out, but it works fine now." 

"Ya could be bluffin'," Sam pointed out, attempting a joke. Cable never made a move to return the smile. 

"Could be." 

Sam flinched. He was a good poker player - great, even. But you just don't bluff with a big man with a gun aimed at your head. 

Cable smiled malevolently. "Run." 

See Sam run. See Sam forget every bit of extensive training he's had over the years and almost stumble over the bottom step outside the building. See Cable taking aim. See Sam's blasting field kick in. See Bobby laugh. See Scott scratch his head in hopeless bewilderment. 

Such was the life of the X-Men.


End file.
